


A Distraction of Sorts

by ettaberry_tea



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Dom Julian Bashir, Dom Kelas Parmak, Julian's stupid foot fetish, Kinky, Light BDSM, M/M, Polyamory, Silly, Sub Elim Garak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:35:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22502626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ettaberry_tea/pseuds/ettaberry_tea
Summary: The two doctors gang up on the Castellan of the Union in order to get some political leverage. They find some rather unusual ways to torment Garak until he begs them to just hit him.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak/Kelas Parmak
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	A Distraction of Sorts

Garak pulled off his dust mask as he stepped through the door of his home. He had had a rather dull day. Democracy was a tedious way to get anything done, although Garak no longer supported the alternative. The harder it was to do things, the harder it was to undo them. Kelas had been sympathetic over the com and had promised him a distraction. To Garak, that meant some friendly banter with Kelas and Julian, and maybe a game of kotra. That was usually how most evenings went in their household.

As soon as he stepped into the living room, he realized that the evening was going to unfold differently. The two doctors were both lounging on the sofa. They stopped talking when he walked in. “Hello Elim,” they said in unison. They both smiled mischievously. They looked at each other. Julian raised an eyebrow. Kelas nodded. They both stood up.

“You must be exhausted after working all day since six in the morning,” said Julian, crossing the room and touching palms with Garak.

“Indeed, and you must be hungry since you skipped breakfast,” said Kelas, taking Garak’s other hand and pulling him towards the dining table.

 _What in the Gul’s name are they up to,_ wondered Garak. Julian pushed him into a seat, and Kelas set a plate of Sem’hal stew and a cup of tea in front of him. Garak took a sip of tea.

“Skipping breakfast, the most important meal of the day? I’d say that’s quite naughty, wouldn’t you Kelas?”

Garak spat out the tea in his mouth. _Oh god no, not this again._

“Oh, definitely,” said Kelas. “And what did you eat all day Elim? Nothing but Ikiri buns and gelat I bet. That really won’t do.”

Julian made that tsk tsk sound that humans make when they are displeased. “This isn’t funny Elim, your health is not a laughing matter.”

“I can’t eat if you keep making me laugh!” protested Garak, “I’ll choke!”

“We’ve decided on a new rule,” said Kelas.  
Julian nodded.

“Oh, and what might that be,” said Garak, taking a bite of his stew.

“Each day, Julian and I are not going to engage in any sort of discourse with you until you’ve had at least one proper meal.”

“And that meal must have at least one vegetable or fruit, and some complex carbohydrates,” added Julian.  
Kelas nodded solemnly.

“And since you haven’t had breakfast, that means no debating until after your plate is clean,” said Kelas.

Garak opened his mouth to protest and Kelas shoved a spoonful of stew into it. “You can complain all you want after you’ve finished. Doctor’s orders.”

Garak swallowed. “Eating is rather boring without conversation,” he said.

“Ah, ah, ah” scolded Julian, wagging his finger. “Save it.”

“So Julian,” said Kelas, “How is your research going?”

Julian launched into some jargon heavy explanation of his biomolecular research, and Kelas asked all the right questions. Garak scraped the last of his stew off his plate.

“Lick it,” instructed Kelas.

Garak looked at him incredulously. Kelas was serious. Garak rolled his eyes and brought his plate up to his mouth. _How uncouth,_ he thought.

“Well done, that’s much better,” praised Julian.  
He pressed his socked foot into Garak’s crotch under the table. Kelas kissed Garak’s temple. Garak squirmed appreciatively at the attention.

“We have something to discuss,” said Kelas.

“Oh?” said Garak.

“Our clinic’s computers are ancient,” said Julian. “It’s quite difficult to practice modern medicine when we are constantly having to wait for repairs. We are lacking the necessary funds to update our technology.”

“We’ve already discussed this. Allocation of funds for healthcare is the province’s jurisdiction. You’ve got to write to our provincial representative.”

“Oh, we did.” Said Julian. “And you know what they said? They said that they had insufficient funds. Now who’s in charge of making sure the provinces have sufficient funds to run our public health-care programs?”

“Surely it couldn’t be the counsel of the Union?” said Kelas. “But, no, that would be under your jurisdiction Elim. So, what are we going to do about that?”

“We gave them plenty of funding. They just don’t want to pay for your computers, and there’s nothing I can do about that. I don’t control the provincial government.”

“Listen to his excuses,” Kelas said to Julian.  
Julian shook his head disapprovingly. Suddenly he grabbed Garak’s arms and pinned them behind the chair. 

Garak gasped in surprise. “Just what do you think that will accomplish?”

Julian held Garak in place with his disturbingly strong arms while Kelas tied him to the chair. “This isn’t going to get you what you want,” protested Garak. “Maybe you should try tying the Provincial Health Minister to a chair and see if that does anything.”

Julian grabbed the back of the chair and roughly dragged Garak into the middle of the living room. Kelas produced a PADD from his back pocket and held it out in front of Garak. “We’ve made a list of demands. Add your thumb print and we’ll let you go.”

“And what, prey-tell, are your ‘demands’,” said Garak sarcastically.

“We want new computers for our clinic, funding for public health outreach, and for pharma care to be extended to cover all forms of contraception.”

“Again, that’s the provincial…”  
Kelas landed a well-aimed slap across Garak’s cheek.  
“sign it!”  
“Or what? You’re going to slap me some more? Do your worst.”

Julian dragged Garak’s chair further backwards towards the sofa. “Oh, you wish that we were just going to slap you. You can handle being slapped.”

Kelas left the room and came back with a bottle of water and a face cloth. “What are you going to do, water board me?” Garak said with a smirk.

“No, you’d enjoy that too much,” said Kelas.  
He poured water onto the cloth. Julian tilted Garak’s chair back against the sofa and held him securely in place. Kelas held the wet cloth above Garak’s head and let it drip against his forehead. The drops landed in his chufa and trickled down his nose. Garak groaned, “Seriously? water drop torture?” Amateurs.

“We have all night,” said Julian. “Did I ever tell you about my favorite alloy racket Kelas?”  
“Ah, please do enlighten me on the subject.”  
After twenty minutes of dripping water on Garak, Julian and Kelas got bored. “I think we should try a different method,” said Julian.  
Garak smirked at their impatience. It would surely be their downfall. Julian retied Garak, binding his hands together in front of him. He made him lie down on the sofa, and then bound his feet as well, for good measure. “Let’s have a game of kotra while we wait for Garak to reconsider,” suggested Kelas.

“What a lovely idea.”

Julian sat on the arm of the sofa and put his smelly, socked feet in Garak’s face. Kelas set up the board next to him. Then he turned on Julian’s Vic Fontaine recording that he knew Garak hated. “Nice touch,” said Julian.

Kelas popped his knuckles one by one as he studied the board. Garak gritted his teeth at the sound. “Is your plan to annoy me into signing that PADD of yours?”

“Why that’s exactly our plan,” said Julian, making the first move.

“Any regular sort of torment doesn’t work on you, so we have to be creative,” said Kelas, moving a game piece.

Julian caressed Garak’s face with his dusty, sweat-infused feet. 

“It’s not like I can even give you any of your demands. This isn’t fair.”

“Oh, we know that the funding for our clinic is of provincial jurisdiction,” said Kelas. “We’re just asking for your… endorsement and support in the matter. You do have friends in high places.”

“You both are hypocrites,” said Garak.

“Oh? Those are fighting words,” said Julian, grinning and picking up a piece.

“You both claim to be pro-democracy, but here we are. You’ve literally got the head of state tied up on your sofa.”

“Sometimes politicians need… persuasion,” said Julian.

“Consider this an act of civil disobedience,” said Kelas, making his move.

Julian put his foot over Garak’s mouth and Garak bit it. “Ooh, feisty!” said Julian.  
He took off his socks and stuffed them in Garak’s mouth. Garak spat them out. “Blegh, I can’t believe I share a bed with you. Do you ever wash your feet?”

Julian laughed and patted Garak’s cheek with his bare foot. Garak snapped at Julian’s toes and growled. As Julian made his next move on the kotra board, he worked his foot down into Garak’s pants. Garak hated Julian’s stupidly long legs and distressingly long toes that were now getting him all hot and bothered. 

Kelas was still popping his knuckles. He flicked one of Julian’s pieces off the board and it tumbled under the couch. He looked Garak in the eyes while doing so. Garak glared at him.  
Julian captured one of Kelas’ pieces and flung it across the room. “You’re going to have to find that again later,” grumbled Garak.

They kept flinging the pieces about the room whenever they captured them, which made Garak angrier with each piece that he’d have to hunt for later. Julian’s foot was just enough to arouse him, but nowhere near enough to satisfy him. Kelas started picking at his teeth, which he knew was one of Garak’s pet peeves. “Oh, you’ve almost got it. Let me help,” said Julian.

He reached across the kotra board and put his finger in Kelas’ mouth. “Julian! That is vile!” said Garak.

“No, this is vile,” said Julian, wiping the gunk from Kelas’ teeth onto Garak’s cheek.

“All right, all right! I have an offer to make, just stop all ready.”

Julian and Kelas exchanged glances. “We’re listening.”

“I won’t be signing any illegal and morally questionable documents, BUT I’ll talk to the Provincial Health Minister about your clinic.”

“Should we believe him?” said Kelas.

“I’m giving you my word,” insisted Garak.

“You have to give us your word that you’ll eat breakfast every day too,” said Julian.

“I’ll give you my word that I’ll eat breakfast tomorrow.”

Julian and Kelas consulted each other with their eyes. “All right, we agree to those terms,” said Kelas.

“Good, now hit me or something. Please!” begged Garak.

Julian and Kelas laughed and untied him. Garak wiped his cheek off and massaged his wrists. Kelas kissed Julian in celebration and then grabbed the front of Garak’s shirt roughly. He bent close to his face and hissed: “get your sorry ass up off this sofa and go find me something to beat you with.”  
“Finally,” said Garak, rolling his eyes.  
That earned him a punch in the gut from Julian. “Harder!” he gasped.  
Julian grabbed his arm and hauled him off the couch. Kelas shoved him so that he stumbled forwards. “Go get what I asked for. Hurry up.”

>>\----------o----------<<

Garak lay on his stomach on their bed. Kelas stroked his hair gently, and Bashir ran a dermal regenerator over his bruises. The three of them were naked and content. Garak ran his finger along the smooth, soft scales on Kelas’ inner thigh.

“There, all done,” said Julian.  
He put away the dermal regenerator and pulled a blanket over Garak. He got under the covers too and gently pulled Garak towards him.

Garak turned onto his side and let Julian spoon him. He could feel the human’s body hair tickling his back and that made him smile. Kelas also got under the covers and kissed Garak’s forehead. Garak sighed appreciatively. 

The two doctors cuddled him until he fell asleep and then woke him up to make sure that he brushed his teeth.


End file.
